Literally meaning to separate, abstract, peel away, or to isolate oneself from every occupation and engagement, tajrid (isolation) denotes the state where one isolates oneself from worldly things and abandons all carnal or bodily desires. It also denotes turning away from all else save God and being freed from any attachment to wealth, status or position or any worldly expectations, and setting one’s heart totally on Him without expecting anything in return.

The scholars relate isolation to the Qur’anic statement, Take off your shoes (20:12), and interpret this as the purifying of the heart, which they call the home of God, of all worldly and otherworldly considerations, and preparing it for the visit of the All-Holy Sovereign. Some go a step further and regard this as turning to the Light of Lights with all one’s heart and setting one’s heart totally on Him without leaving any room for anything else in one’s feelings, according to one’s capacity. From another perspective, isolation has been approached as resistance against all carnal or bodily appetites and impulses and against the attractions of the world with whatever is in it. Initiates who have not been able to isolate themselves from carnal appetites, the attractions of the world, the attachment of the heart to anything else save Him, or from any worldly or otherworldly consideration, cannot attain His private company and the spiritual pleasure inherent in this.

Concerning this significant point, the author of al-Minhaj

says:

So long as you do not isolate yourself
from considerations about everything save Him,
You will not be able to reach privacy
with the Beloved in His private room.

Ibrahim Haqqi expresses the same point, as follows:

The heart is the home of God;
purify it of whatever is there other than Him,
So that the All-Merciful may descend into His palace at nights.

Isolation, which, in the words of Sayyid Sharif [1], is cleaning the heart and other innermost faculties from the dirt and dust of attachment to anything save Him, requires that the people favored with a vision of Him should isolate themselves from whatever they see or hear, and that they live immersed in the lights of the Existence of the Eternal Witness. Every initiate feels this and is favored with its gifts according to the individual’s capacity.

When those who are in the initial stages of the spiritual journey find themselves growing in the knowledge of God that is developing in the heart, the information acquired concerning Him gradually fades, and they begin to receive glimpses from beyond things. Then all of their material or bodily necessities, and even the entire world with whatever is in it, gradually lose their importance and value for them and they become polished mirrors to the truth, or function as some misty medium to reflect Him. One who feels this favor sometimes says, like Fuduli,

The way of isolation is a home
requiring full renunciation and sacrifice to settle in,
so abandon whatever worldly things you have,
and do not have a house.

or sometimes cries, like Yunus Emre:

I have found the unique, matchless honey;
Let everybody come and plunder my existence.

One who has reached the final point of the spiritual journey is freed from all considerations concerning other existent beings save God, and is left with no trace that belongs to anything else except Him. If those favored with this degree of isolation do not follow the principles of the Prophetic way or the rules of Shari‘a in their considerations, they may lapse into negating the “reality of things”— the established originals or essences of things in God’s Knowledge. This is a rank where many initiates live in a daze. Whereas, those who strictly follow the signposts and lights of the Prophetic way during their entire journey, though admitting the reality of things, see in everything only He Who is the One, only know the One, only mention the One, only call the One, and only turn to the One in thousands of signs of “dawn,” turning their eyes from all others.

Ahmedi [2] describes this rank according to his feeling as follows:

I have submitted all my being to that Friend, having no home any longer;
And purified my hands of any worldly things I had, being left without both of the two worlds.
For God’s love has come and drawn me to itself: opening the eyes of my heart, awakening me from an intoxicated sleep.
His Unity has become manifest to me, so that I have seen Him with all certainty.
I have driven away polytheism, having no doubt any longer.

As for the state of those who have completed their journey toward God, it is such a deep, indescribable state of pleasure, where efforts toward isolation have ended in perfect isolation and they have all but lost their own being, that those who do not experience it cannot know or describe it. Anybody who attempts to describe it cannot be saved from confusion. Such a relation between the Almighty, Ultimate Truth and an initiate whom He has favored with such a degree of spiritual attainment must be a mysterious gift of secrecy of His to His distinguished servants. What we should do is to feel respect for this gift of secrecy.

O God! Show us the truth as being true and enable us to follow it, and show us falsehood as being false and enable us to refrain from it. And bestow blessings and peace on our master Muhammad, the guide to the truth, and on his Family and Companions, godly, noble and honorable.

Notes

1. Sayyid Sharif al-Jurjani (1339–1413), was one of the leading theologians of 15^th century. He lived in Iran and taught in Shiraz. He visited Istanbul in 1374. Sharhu’l-Mawaqif is his most famous work.
2. Emir Muhammed ibn Emir Ahmedi lived in the same age as Jalalu’d-Din Rumi. He lived in Bayburt, in the Eastern Turkey. He was also the leader of the Ahis (The Brotherhood of Craftsmen and Tradesmen) in the region. (Tr.)

Subsistence by God denotes that the servant of God regards all existence, including him or herself, as being non-existent in and of itself, and discovers in his or her consciousness that every being, living and non-living, is a manifestation or shadow of the light of the Divine Knowledge and Existence. Initiates who experience destruction and effacement with respect to their corporeal self and gain a new existence by God’s permanence or subsistence exist by His Existence, subsist by His Subsistence, live by His Life, know by His Knowledge, will by His Will, and hear and see by His Hearing and Seeing. They see and hear what other (normal) people cannot see or hear, and receive favors that come as a result of such hearing and seeing. Initiates who have reached this rank, which marks the near completion of the journey, and where they feel themselves to be in the most pleasurable state of being freed of their name and existence, are in relative terms qualified and mentioned with any of God’s Attributes in the heavens and earth. Those who have contact with the spiritual realms can feel in their consciousness a reflection of this favor. This state is also regarded as persons of heart being called according to their own perception of themselves. Only those with purified souls who see and think of nothing but the Truly Beloved One, and whose hearts always beat by His Existence and Subsistence, and whose spirits are continuously reanimated with a new flash of His manifestation, can experience this state. So long as they can keep their relation with the Ultimate Truth at the level which has carried them to this summit, and the Ultimate Truth continues to treat them in this way, do they perceive even the slightest falling under the influence of others in knowledge, perception, feelings, and consciousness as a spiritual eclipse, which may end in their spiritual spark being extinguished. If they feel they have suffered such a falling-off, they will, in order to save themselves from it, be on the lookout for the All-Beloved’s opening a window in their spirits from His special consideration.

From another perspective, subsistence is, after the total disappearance of things that are transient and visible in the sight of an initiate, either a temporary permanence dependent on its own conditions, or an uninterrupted continuity due to the extraordinary confirmation of Divine grace. That is, while a traveler continues his or her journey in the light of the signposts or traffic lights along the way, after a certain point, which is determined by the impressions and discernment of the traveler, the signposts will no longer be needed and are no longer visible. This stage, where the One Who is indicated by the signs and proofs shows Himself with the lights of His Existence, making signs and proofs no longer visible, and where His witnesses are the only instruments for His praise and exaltation, is a different point of breathing and turning to a different angle. If the initiate has the ability and resolution to continue journeying toward further goals, the breezes of annihilation will begin to blow in both the person’s inner and outer world. When the journey is almost exceeding time and space, the initiate feels in the consciousness complete annihilation ready to turn into subsistence. One cannot say anything, nor think of anything, nor attempt to perceive anything. Despite the brilliance of the witnesses that point to Him throughout the universe, they disappear when faced by the lights of His Existence, like stars sinking when the sun rises. As stated in (55:27), There remains forever the “Face” of your Lord, the One of Majesty and Munificence, only the Divine Being continues to exist beyond the scope of human perception, understanding and feeling.

Initiates can view His subsistence or permanence in three stages: the first is based on knowledge, the second on vision, and the third on the pleasure of experiencing His Existence. While traveling through these stages, any information that has been acquired by the known means of acquiring knowledge loses its significance and utterly disappears into what is known. All instances of seeing and feeling vanish while the meaning and content based on or reached through seeing, feeling and knowing remain intact. While all relative truths no longer exist, the absolute truth prevails and the natures of existents, each differ­ent from the other, are surrounded by the lights that emanate from their annihilation in the True Existence. In all of these stag­es, annihilation provides a way to subsistence and wherever an initiate attains subsistence, it can address itself to different levels of feeling and perception, producing relative effects of its own on things. For this reason, this rank has usually been called “subsistence by God with or in the company of God,” and not only “subsistence by God.”

We can view this stage from two angles:

• Travelers find and feel things and events annihilated with respect to their own selves and existence. Nothing exists any longer with respect to its own being. When the travel­ers are surrounded by the atmosphere produced by this, they no longer feel the existence of anything except Him and find everything annihilated in Him.
• A wakeful initiate can always distinguish between the essential, absolutely true Self-Existence and relative instances of existence. So, all things have relative exis­tence dependent on the unique Self-Existence in the initi­ate’s sight. Concerning these two kinds of feeling, percep­tion, and experience, the leading Sufi scholars comment that for a traveler who feels all things annihilated in Him everything ceases to exist, while for one who has the abili­ty to distinguish between the Absolute Existence and the relative existence all things continue to exist.

If we deal with the matter from the approach of the Com­panions, nothing exists by itself nor does it have any essential existence. Everything has relative, insubstantial and accidental existence as a manifestation of the Existence of the Eternal Truth, according to its receptivity. Things, as dependent on the Absolute Truth, have a constant but relative truth. In the begin­ning, this consideration is doctrinal belief based on acceptance, and in the end it is based on the certainty that comes from knowledge and vision.

In the spiritual journey, the whole of existence no longer has any value or significance in the heart of an initiate and vanishes in the infinite light of the True Existence in the same way that the light of a firefly fades when the sun rises. The initiate gives no place to anything else but God in his or her heart, and leaves him or herself in the cataracts of his or her spiritual pleasures immersed in the ownership and guidance of His Will and the lights of His Existence. The utterance always on the initiate’s lips is “He.”

Travelers who feel themselves in a state of pleasure when they find themselves annihilated with respect to their own acts, advance toward the attainment of a new existence and perma­nence in the Acts of the Ultimate Truth. By feeling transience in their own attributes, they taste the pleasure of permanence in the Attributes of God. By forgetting their own selves—though for­getting has been interpreted in different ways—they attain a new existence by the lights of the Ultimate Truth’s Existence. While they sometimes refer to the relative, existential truth of things and emphasize its difference from the absolute, True Existence, they sometimes can find everything annihilated in the absolute, True Existence. There is left only one rank to be reached by the travelers who have arrived at this point, namely God’s company. Every initiate who has attained subsistence by God can attain this rank according to the individual’s capacity. Attainment of this rank sometimes brings with it a feeling of wonder and sometimes an intoxication and sometimes astonishment. Mawla­na Jami expresses this feeling of wonder beautifully as follows:

Love is not without the flute-player, and we are not without Him.
He without us and we without Him, this cannot be.
The flute always beautifies its tunes, but in fact
the beauty of the tune comes from the breathing of the flute-player.
The following verses, belonging to another hero of subsistence by and with God, are concerned with a feeling of wonder and astonishment:
The lights of my eyes are He, and the direction for my reason is He;
my tongue always utters He, and I sigh and groan with He.
My heart goes on an excursion in He; the love of my soul is He.
My greatest secret is He, and my brightest sun is He.
Those who are lovers and intoxicated are always with He.
Their fasting is He, their festive day is He, and their rituals are He.
My soul has sacrificed itself in the way of its Beloved;
its union is with He, its parting is with He,
and its cure, as well as its afflictions, is He.

Those who have attained subsistence by and with God always feel and think of Him alone, they are always with Him alone, and they begin with Him alone. Attracted by Him, they leave themselves in the overflowing pleasures that come from experiencing Him throughout the universe, and always act according to His good pleasure and approval. In the face of the rays of His Knowledge and Existence, which totally eliminate all others save Him and His friends from their hearts and sight, they cannot help but utter “O the All-Living!” and feel as if they are talking about themselves. They utter “O the Ultimate Truth!” and melt away in the light of His Existence.

O God, O the All-Living and the Self-Subsisting! O the One with Majesty and Munificence! Pour unto us knowledge of You and give us from the drink of Paradise, and enable us to be steadfast on the Prophet’s way and true guidance. And bestow blessings and peace on our master Muhammad, who teaches the true way, and on his Companions, the noble, hon­orable and godly ones.

His exalted name, “Light,” touches the darkness
and everywhere is filled with light.
The letters written from a brilliant world
are revealed to the hearts;
Then the Divine command,
“Read in the name of your Lord!”
descends and becomes our intentions.

We look around the Earth and believe that we start to sail into the dark upon reaching the depths of the skies, the land, and the oceans. But if we look with care, we may notice that the inhabitants of those places often inform us of the beauties they are created with.

The depths of the oceans, especially, are where what we see leave us amazed. From microscopic bacteria to giant squids, and from tiny lighted jellyfish to spiny skin, many creatures, from ascidians to some sharks and stingrays, turn on their lights, literally, illuminating the darkness of the deep sea. This biological light-producing process in the body of some animals is called bioluminescence. It is astounding that these creatures can emit biological light with no change in their body temperature. Normally, light is formed by emitting heat. This basic principle applies to some of the most common sources of light that we know of, such as campfires and electrical lightbulbs.

A mechanism that produces light without heat has been created in some insects living under the sea as well as those on land. The basis of biological light production is generally the oxidation of luciferin, i.e. its conversion to oxyluciferin. The enzyme necessary for this chemical reaction to occur is luciferase.

Most living creatures that can produce bioluminescence live in deep, dark areas of the world’s various seas and oceans. Some of the inhabitants of these depths emit strong blue (secondarily green) light at an average wavelength of 475 nm. An interesting note is that underwater life forms are often created with sensitivity to the wavelengths of blue-green lights mentioned above. In rare cases, there are also sea creatures that emit light in the yellow-red wavelength range.

Animals with the ability to emit light are also usually given excellent control mechanisms so that they can use their equipment as a weapon. They can turn their lights on and off in a flash and can utilize complex chemical and neurological mechanisms that provide functions such as adjusting the intensity, color, and direction of the light. Creatures that produce light underwater sometimes do not need to use the light in order to see where they are going. Instead, they tend to use these marvelous gifts in a variety of strategic ways. Some will try to attract the attention of their prey; others will attempt to ward off predators and aggressors; still others will use their lights to indicate that they are ready for reproduction. It is even possible for some creatures to utilize several of these functions at the same time.

Let us now examine some specific species and how they employ bioluminescence.

Light vomiting shrimp

One of the most interesting examples of bioluminescence in animals is the light-emitting deep-sea shrimp Acanthephyra purpurea. This shrimp will actually vomit light from its mouth as a last-ditch effort to deter predators. The intent is to disorient, confuse, and even temporarily blind other creatures, similar to the effect of a flashbang grenade, so that the shrimp can retreat into the dark. As a result of their research on the shrimps, marine biologist Edith Widder states that the chemical substances sprayed are not blue when they are in the body and that the blue light production occurs when the luciferin substance in the sprayed liquid comes into contact with the oxygen in water.

Loosejaw fish

There are at least 42 recorded families of bony fish that have bioluminescent properties. One of them is the Photostomias guernei, or the “loosejaw fish”. This fish has a remarkable organ that emits light on the sides of its eyes. These lights, which resemble the headlight lamps of our cars, are not constantly lit, in order to avoid waste. When hunting, the fish illuminates the way ahead with the light it produces, and it can turn these lights off when they are no longer needed. A wonderful feature of this organ is that, just like headlights, a highly reflective layer is created behind the main center of the light. The reason that the fish is able to turn the light off may be because its black velvety body is contrasted by the light color of the organ and would thus attract much unwanted attention.

Deep sea hatchetfish

Bioluminescent systems were also given to creatures in order to act as a means of camouflage. They work phenomenally for both hunting and survival in situations where blending in with the environment is paramount for catching prey or evading predators. In the depths of the underwater world, the silhouette of an animal bathing in light is an easily recognizable target. One of the best examples of this phenomenon is the deep-sea hatchetfish. The fish has been created with its eyes on top of its body and its mouth facing upwards, making it easier to hunt. It also emits bioluminescence from its abdomen to provide camouflage against more aggressive, larger fish that swim lower than itself. The color of the light emitted makes it difficult to recognize the fish from below as it perfectly matches the color intensity of the environment. In the meantime, if the sunlight that hits the sea is interrupted in any way, the fish will turn off its lights and the camouflage will continue.

Black dragonfish

Diversity in the light organs of the scaleless black dragonfish (Melanostomias bartonbeani)

This species of black dragonfish (Melanostomias bartonbeani) takes advantage of luminescence in a number of ways. An illuminated area next to the eyes is used to find prey and send signals to its mates. The black dragonfish’s chin also has an illuminated extension that dangles in the waves as bait for naive prey. In addition, a set of small organs of light arranged along its abdomen play a role in concealing its silhouette. Furthermore, light-emitting pocket-like structures surrounded by a gelatinous capsule embedded in the skin are used as alarm systems. The bioluminescent systems within this creature are immensely complex and beautiful, and when observed in detail reveal the dazzling splendor of the world that we live in.

Fish with 3 different types of illumination

The Northern Stoplight Loosejaw (Malacosteus niger) has three different types of light organs, the complex use of which cannot be possible without top engineering skills. The wide, drop-shaped, illuminated organ under its eyes emits a red light at a wavelength of 702 nm as if it knows the laws of optics under the sea. This red light is not visible to most deep-sea creatures, for it is quickly absorbed in water. Yet, with this red light this fish is able to have vision in a close proximity while remaining largely undetected. This is similar to infrared binoculars soldiers use for night vision without giving away their position. The loosejaw is thus a dangerous hunter that has an edge over its prey. There also exists a blue light-emitting oval section, behind the organ, that emits red light and is usually larger in males. A third light organ is round and smaller and is located between the eyes and the red-light organ.

Angler fish

The angler fish is one of the most iconic fish of the deep ocean due to its famous rod and bioluminescence. The angler fish does not actually produce its light on its own: the light is credited to bioluminescent symbiotic bacteria that inhabit the end of the rod on their forehead. This illuminated part, which resembles a worm-like bait, is very attractive to small fish. These fish are thus lured to the angler expecting a quick snack, but instead the angler swallows them whole with its massive mouth. While doing their task of helping the angler hunt small fish, the bacteria maintain a symbiotic relationship with the fish and also find an environment in which to proliferate. In this way, they form a good example of cooperation and solidarity. One may wonder: how can such a mutual agreement come into fruition between a fish and some bacteria which are deprived of a nervous system, mind, and consciousness?

One of the reasons that marine biologists are interested in light-emitting bacteria is the wide-lit regions called the “Milky Seas.” These can be observed in satellite images of Earth. Recently, satellites helped detect a bioluminescent area of roughly 5,946 sq. mi in the Indian Ocean; scientists wondered if some bioluminescent bacteria or Dinoflagellate-type flame-colored algae may be the cause of the phenomenon.

Alarming jellyfish

The luminescence of some marine life serves as an alarm or distress siren. A remarkable example of this is the Atolla jellyfish (Atolla wyvillei), an elegant inhabitant of deep waters. This jellyfish produces blue lights that are spread in circles in the water when it is attacked. Thanks to these lights, it tries to draw the attention of larger and stronger animals than the initial attacker in order to escape from harm’s way.

As can be observed in some species that we are familiar with, such as fireflies, the bioluminescence feature that is full of wisdom granted to some living beings is a thought-provoking biological miracle which does not only make us ponder where they got these abilities from but also reveals how so many intricate patterns are found in nature.

References

• Steven H.D. Haddock, Mark A. Moline and James F. Case. 2010. Bioluminescence in the Sea, Article in Annual Review of Marine Science, DOI:10.1146/annurev-marine-120308-081028 Source: PubMed.
• Edith A. Widder. 2001. Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institution, Fort Pierce, Florida, Marine Bioluminescence, Bioscience Explained, vol 1, no 1, pp. 1-9.
• Edith A. Widder. 2010. “Bioluminescence in the Ocean: Origins of Biological, Chemical, and Ecological Diversity,” Science, vol. 328, pp. 704-708.
• www.wired.com/2012/01/glow-little-spewing-shrimp-glow/ March 28, 2018.
• en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malacosteus_niger / April 1, 2018.
• Harold, A. 2015. Malacosteus niger. The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species 2015: e.T190149A21909439. http://dx.doi.org/10.2305/IUCN.UK.2015-4.RLTS.T190149A21909439.en.
• https://www.iucnredlist.org/species/190149/21909439

If I had not actually seen them I would have said, it is mere fantasy, idle talk or imagination-a luminous shadow of the generation of the noble companions of the Prophet. Although it is understood of course, that the merit of the Companions cannot be surpassed, in these men were combined two of their great qualities-migration (hijra) and support (nusra). However, they were not divided into migrants and helpers but rather were migrants who help.

Migration to God and His Messenger (upon him be blessings and peace) are words often pronounced on tongues but rarely heeded by hearts. It is when a person leaves behind a life of comfort and rest, and the alluring bright lights of the city. He sets off journeying through the land to penetrate into foreign and remote territory. Carrying a lantern in his hand he searches out the needy throughout the land in order to nourish them with a sip of the nectar of life. On this path he has to endure self-sacrifice, self-annihilation and the abandonment of his worldly interests. That is a spiritual experience that nobody can truly comprehend except the one who has endured it. This is indeed an obstacle besides which are more obstacles, which count among the various degrees of striving.

Their sun rises in the land of Anatolia, and its rays effuse throughout the world in clear radiant beams. By this light old ties of kinship are bonded and the warmth of compassion is imparted to the wounded. They are migrants who left everything behind them and set forth like unsaddled, unshod horses. They open the doors and windows of the besieged in every land and teach them how to breathe again, breathe in the open air after having lost their ability to sense life centuries ago.

They are migrants (muhajirun) who have abandoned that before which dead-hearted people debase themselves: the pleasures of this life and its adornment, even though these flowed toward them in abundance from every direction. They set out towards God, distributing words of light, giving the world the good tidings of security and peace, and transmitting to the hearts of the poor great hope. Their legions are dispersed over deserts, mountains, jungles, and oceans. A horse may buckle here or there but the vanguard ever reaches its goal and raises its banner of light on the highest and loftiest peaks. True faith in God is elevated and honored through them.

A shadow of the generation of the Companions or a new copy, I know not. I have certainly seen them and my eyes did not deceive me. Among them are those who have passed on and among them are those who await their turn. They have not changed. It is for God to reward them! What men they are!

They are helpers (ansar) for they have supported the good, becoming thereby the helpers of the modern age. Each time they see the light of a candle faltering in a stormy wind, wherever it may be, they rush forth without a care for hardships and shield it with a niche of clear glass. Then it becomes like a shining star emanating beauty and splendor.

They went hungry so that others could eat, and they gave the clothes of their backs so that their poor could be clothed. They went short so that their needy could have possessions, and they wept so that their brothers could laugh. Truly, they preferred others over themselves even though they were themselves needy.

They are helpers who have acquired their state of support (nusra) by drawing from the light of Medina Al Munawwarra in the period just after the emigration of the Messenger (upon him be blessings and peace) there, when the joy of the people of Yathrib was still fresh and expressed in outbursts of song. It is from there that they have received the essence of their support, fresh and moist as a supple green branch sprinkling dew and bearing delicious fruit.

They migrated, and they gave their support. Furthermore, they have given themselves fully to the quest of migration and given themselves fully to the task of offering support. On this earth there remains nothing for them! However, in the world of the spirits they own everything through their dependence on God, the Rich beyond need, Owner of Praise.

They are crazy in their love of serving in foreign lands, from the cold of Siberia to the heat of South Africa. There is no island, cave, plain, or mountain, in all the continents of the world where they have not reached and there transmitted the rays of light effused by the approaching dawn. They smile in the face of painful afflictions, and they are happy to cross thorn-ridden fields which cause blood to flow from their feet and tears to flow from their eyes while their hearts rejoice in God!

They are truly men; men about whom if an ancient book had spoken, we would have called it an exaggeration like the exaggerations encountered in stories, histories and biographies. However, they are living now in the present and in the future. There they are, in front of you-living examples of burning longing and great dynamism. How commendable they are these youths and mature folk. They have revived in us hope in life, and given us certainty of a new dawn. They are a testimony to the verity of the prophetic words that God will make true faith in Him triumph universally such that there will not remain a house of wool or mud to which it will not have entered, bringing to it either humiliation or honor.

I have beheld the lights of the beautiful divine names reflected in their eyes. Those lights pour out before them and they follow their guidance, drawn by their force, to realize the will of God, the Tremendous, to revive the earth after its death, with prosperity, generosity and munificence. You would see one of them as a nation embodied in a man or a man as if he were a whole nation. If your eyes set upon one of them, they would be dazzled, and you would say, “Goodness! Surely, he can have no equal.” But when you see another, his beauty would make you forget the magnificence of the first. They have united within themselves all the best qualities associated with goodness and virtue. One gaze upon them would rid you of the need to read any books on philosophy and morality, and imaginary ideas on the “city of virtue.”

They do not speak about good character; rather they are in themselves the embodiment of good character walking on earth in an age when noble character is a neglected object consigned to the museum of history.

Would you like to be one of them? Think, and think again before saying yes, for it is just a word that you pronounce but a truly great proclamation that you make, before which lies the obstacle that you must overcome. But what will explain to you what that obstacle is? It is that you should sell your soul to God completely. There should not remain anything of yourself belonging to you; nothing whatsoever. Then you should submit to God’s will and accept whatever comes to you by His decree such that when your whole self is buried away in some corner of the world far, far away from your familiar home country, family folk or loved ones, your only provision and your sole source of nourishment will be the remembrance of God and dependence on His magnificent light.

To be one of them means that everyone will forget you and only God will remember you. It means leaving this world while you are still living, eating its food and walking its streets. You do not see anything in yourself or anything that is yours. You observe among the contemporaries with whom you are acquainted those who have a high opinion of themselves. The latter have not been able to free themselves from earthly yokes or escape from the snares of the realm of causes. They climb in the ranks of worldly delusion and look down on you from their high towers, proud of their posts and titles.

As for you, you walk on the earth barefoot, poor in everything except for the support of God Almighty.

But we have made some of you a means of testing others-will you stand fast? (Furqan 25:20)

Do you really want to be one of them?

“Yes.” That is a word that is easy on the tongue, but it involves a bitter experience. Whoever says that fire does not have the quality of burning; let him test it with his hand. Are you prepared to be burned to the extent that your body becomes dust-dust which the wind then disperses throughout the continents of the world, scattering particles here and there? Whenever one of these particles falls on barren ground, it becomes verdant and sprouting…

These are the giants of our time, examples of the true human being whose appearance has been awaited by the world for a long time. Has not the time come to return to the earth the security that was established there by the liege of creation, Muhammad (upon him be blessings and peace)?!

They have surrounded the oppression of guns and defenses with institutes and schools and put out the fire of discord and wars with words and letters. Every school that they build, wherever it may be, becomes a green tree which continues to sprout palm shoots around it that grow and grow until the region becomes full of trees. Thus does a forest of goodness stifle the loathsome sound of bullets and rid it of the rotten stink of gunpowder.

They are teachers who have spread everywhere; teaching the children of the world the language of birds and the song of sparrows. They draw on their green boards in front of them dreams of a beautiful future and the outlines of the path leading to Paradise. The children who graduate leaving the custody of these teachers, throughout the continents of the earth, come out singing one hymn-giving tidings of goodness and peace to the world.

The angels of remembrance love them, for often do they listen to their heart rending songs. The angels of knowledge know them, for often do they carry their vanguard under their wings while it is journeying through the land towards the forests of Australia, the deserts of Asia, the jungles of Africa, or the foggy lands of the far west.

They shoot rays of light over skyscrapers. They are teachers, unarmed except with the weapons of education and edification. They are prepared to venture into dangerous situations wherever they may be. They advance bare-chested, smiling in the face of abysses of discomfort.

Extending before them, they have a far reaching vision which never strays from its goal. Behind them is solid instruction which provides them with guided inspirations received from God. The burning core of their teacher’s heart makes them steadfast through works of wisdom. These works are outpourings of light which gush forth via streams whose support could scarcely be cut off, God permitting!

O my beloveds! You are the true guardians of love, and upon you may God send His greetings of peace!

Farid al-Ansari is a professor of Philosophy of Islamic Law at Mawlay Ismail University, Morocco.

With their profound, spiritual breezes, every sound and breath of air in Ramadan announces in a most exalted and exhilarating style all the pleasures we would like to taste in life and the hopes of good we deeply cherish.

Coming like successive rays of light, the smiling days of Ramadan envelop us with the expectations, hopes and joys they carry from the worlds beyond, and present to us samples from Paradise.

When Ramadan begins, our inner life, its thoughts and feelings, is renewed and strengthened. Breezes of mercy, coming in different wavelengths, unite with our hopes and expectations, and penetrate our hearts. In the enchanting days and illumined nights of Ramadan, we feel as if all the obstacles blocking our way to God are removed and the hills on that way are levelled.

Like rain pouring on the earth, Ramadan comes with streams of meanings and emotions that water dried and thirsty hearts, making the inner worlds of people propitious for new meanings and conceptions. By means of the light of the days, hours and minutes of this blessed month, hearts attain such spiritual depth and become so purified that they never desire to leave its climate of peace.

As Ramadan approaches, we live the delight of anticipation and preparation for it. The food and drink that come into our kitchens in the days before it comes, put us in mind of it with a thrill of expectation. And then it comes at last, laden with mercy and forgiveness. As soon as it honours us, each of us finds himself in a spiral of light rising toward the heavens and advances toward the Unknown Existent One in a new spiritual mood in the night-time and in another, different spiritual mood in daytime. We open our eyes to each of its days with a different solemnity and self-possession and reach every evening in an enchanting, delightful serenity.

The pleasant nights of Ramadan receive warmest welcome from all souls. Eyes look more deeply in them and people feel deeper love for each other. Everyone desires to do good to everyone and passions and ill-feeling are subjugated to a certain extent. In Ramadan everyone feels so much more attached to God and is so careful in his relations with others that it is impossible not to see this.

Believing souls taste the contentment of belief more deeply and experience the blessing of the good morals prescribed by Islam and the spiritual ease of doing good to others. Moreover, they try to expand, to share, this contentment, blessing and ease with others. Since these souls at rest are convinced that one day will come when this life will end in an eternal happiness and whatever they suffer and sacrifice here for God’s sake will be returned with very great reward, they struggle against their animal appetites in a mood of doing an act of worship. The meals they take at sunset to break the fast give them the pleasure of worship and are followed by early night prayer with the addition of the supererogatory service of worship particular to Ramadan. The meals they take before dawn to start fasting are united with supererogatory night prayer (tahajjud) and become a dimension of their nearness to God. Streets are filled with the people going to and returning from mosques, in which declarations of ‘God is the Greatest’ resound as in the Masjid al-Haram in Makka. You would think that the streets are each a mosque and each mosque is Ka’ba. The people shaped by Ramadan in this way, though mortal in nature, gain a sort of eternity and each of their acts done in the consciousness of deliberate worship becomes a ceremony pertaming to the Hereafter.

Nights are experienced more deeply and in consideration of the afterlife, and days are spent as portions of time dominated by resolution and strong will-power. Those fasting for God’s sake feel a thrill of joy, and spend every and each day in the excitement of a new re-union. They reach every morning in an indescribable feeling as if they were called to a new testing. You can discern on their faces a sign of humility mixed with solemnity, a feeling of nothingness before God together with serenity and seriousness and melancholy combined with a feeling of security. Their every act reflects spiritual peace and exhilaration coming from adherence to God’s will and confidence in Him, and sincerity and kindness acquired by being cleansed in the cascades of the Qur’an. As if created from light and consisting in only their shadows, they are very careful to give no one any harm or trouble. Respect and courtesy are so much a part of their nature that, even after a day of thirst and hunger and resisting their carnal desires, they remain gentle and pure-hearted. They display a mood shaped by fear and reverence, discipline and contentment, solemnity and politeness. They are respectful and reverent toward the Almighty and well-mannered and sincere toward one another.

Their faces and eyes reflect different degrees and dimensions of depth of spiritual realms and are radiant with the lights of the unseen world. Though each individual may have been shaped by a different climate and different ideas,-all of them, including the intelligent and pure-hearted, those used to a disciplined, careful life and those a bit untidy and careless, the nervous and the calm, those very sensitive to problems of the age and those a little unfeeling, the rich and the poor, the happy and sorrowful, the healthy and the ill, the white and black-share almost the same feelings in Ramadan. They reach the night and morning together, listen to the call to prayers and perform the prayers together, take the meals before dawn and break their fasts together. They feel together one of the two instances of rejoicing promised for those who fast [The Prophet said: There are two instances of rejoicing for one who fasts: one when he breaks his fast, the other when he will receive the reward of fasting in the Hereafter.]

All Muslims, whatever their nationality or country of origin or temperament or social status or physical state, come together and breathe the same ‘air’ in the climate of Ramadan. In it, their souls are shaped in a way particular to that climate, and they share a sort of deeply-felt happiness which can be experienced only by spirit beings. Ramadan has a fascinating effect on Muslims that leaves its positive imprints on even the souls of the poorest and most oppressed people.

Ramadan envelops us with many beauties: the pleasure in the supererogatory prayers performed after the prescribed night service; consciousness of the blessings of Ramadan; the light that pours on us both from the heaven and from the lights that decorate the mosques; the nearness of the Creative Power and Its message of compassion and forgiveness whispered in our hearts. As if planned and commanded in order to kindle such feelings and thoughts in us, each element of the public rites in Ramadan causes the ‘strings’ of our heats to resonate: the calls made from minarets and the blessings called on the Prophet, upon him be peace and blessings, and the pronouncements of Divine Unity, Grandeur and Glory which resound in our ears, all prepare our souls for worship. They awake us to spiritual and celestial truths and enable even the crudest soul to perform its duties of worship in the way those duties are meant to be performed.

The voices rising from minarets meet with the voices of the inhabitants of the heavens and resound throughout the heavens and the earth. They penetrate our souls and take us through a climate of purest meanings and poetry, a realm of sweet imagination. In this pleasant atmosphere, we feel as if it is Ramadan which pours from the heavens, which is discerned on the faces of people and scents the air and is written in the lights of the mosques. Enchanted by this calm and peaceful atmosphere, we achieve a sort of infinitude and feel as if comprehending the whole of existence. Ramadan captivates particularly those open to eternity to such an extent that they experience nothing else than it.

I remember well that during my childhood when there was as yet no electricity in cities, people walked to mosques with kerosene lamps in the darkness of night. We imagined that Ramadan was walking around in the alleys in the lights of those lamps. Under the influence of poetry, meaning and deep spirituality which Ramadan poured into our souls, we desired that it should never come to an end. Nevertheless, despite our heartfelt desire, it flew away and the festive day followed it with all its pomp.

I was in a country which Taha had never visited and yet his memory was closer to me than it had been for years. Perhaps it was my new solitude, perhaps he came to me in dreams I could not recall. Or was my mind reeling from the newness surrounding me? I was in London for a one year contract with the BBC World Service. Each day as I read the news in Arabic, my voice, cool and distant, reached my husband in Kuwait, and my parents who were looking after my daughters in Khartoum.

Now I was older than Taha had been when he died. At that time he was ten years older than me and like my other brothers he had humoured me and spoiled me. When he died, my mind bent a little and has never straightened since. How could a young mind absorb the sudden death of a brother on the day of his wedding? It seemed at first to be a ghastly mistake, but that was an illusion, a mirage. The Angel of Death makes no mistakes, he is a reliable servant who never fails to keep his appointment at the predetermined time and place. Taha had no premonition of his own death. He was fidgety, impatient but not for that, not for the end coming so soon. It was too painful to think of what must have been his own shock, his own useless struggle against the inevitable. Nor did anyone else have foreknowledge. How could we, when we were steeped in wedding preparations and our house was full of relatives helping with the wedding meal? From the misty windows I saw the words ‘Gulf Air’ written in Arabic and English on the doors of the airline’s office and imagined myself one day buying a ticket to go to Hamid in Kuwait. It seemed that the fate of our generation is separation, from our country or our family. We are ready to go anywhere in search of the work we cannot find at home. Hamid says that there are many Sudanese in Kuwait and he hopes that in the next year or so the girls and I will join him. Every week, I talk to him on the telephone, long leisurely conversations. We run up huge telephone bills but seem to be unable to ration our talks. He tells me amusing stories of the emirs whose horses he cures. In Sudan, cattle die from starvation or disease all the time, cattle which are the livelihood of many people. But one of the country’s few veterinary surgeons is away, working with animals whose purpose is only to amuse. Why? So that his daughters can have a good education, so that he can keep up with the latest research in his field. So that he can justify the years of his life spent in education by earning the salary he deserves. And I thought of Taha’s short life and wondered.

In Regent Street the conductor had to shake himself from his lethargy and prevent more people from boarding the bus. The progress of the bus was slow in contrast to the shoppers who swarmed around in the brightly lit streets. Every shop window boasted an innovative display and there were new decorative lights in addition to the street lights. Lights twined around the short trees on the pavements, on wires stretched across the street. Festive December lights. Blue, red, green lights, more elaborate than the crude strings of bulbs that we use in Khartoum to decorate the wedding house. But the lights for Taha’s wedding had not shone as they were meant to on that night. By night time he was already buried and we were mourning not celebrating. Over the period of mourning, the wedding dinner was gradually eaten by visitors. The women indoors, sitting on mattresses spread on the floors, the men on wobbling metal chairs in a tent pitched in front of our house, the dust of the street under their feet. But they drank water and tea and not the sweet orange squash my mother and her friends had prepared by boiling small oranges with sugar. That went to a neighbour who was bold enough to ask about it. Her children carried the sweet liquid from our house in large plastic bottles, their eyes bright, their lips moist with expectation.

When Taha died I felt raw and I remained transparent for a long time. Death had come so close to me that I was almost exhilarated; I could see clearly that not only life but the world was transient. But with time my heart hardened and I became immersed in the cares of day to day life. I had become detached from this vulnerable feeling and it was good to recapture it now and grieve once again.

Taha’s life. I was not there for a large part of it but I remember the time he got engaged and my own secret feelings of jealousy towards his fiance. Muddled feelings of admiration and a desire to please. She was a university student and to my young eyes she seemed so articulate and self-assured. I remember visiting her room in the universiey hostels while Taha waited for us outside by the gate, hands in his pockets, maxing patterns in the dust with his feet. Her room was in lively disarray with clothes and shoes scattered about and colourful posters on the wall. It was full of chatting room-mates and friends who kept coming in and out to eat the last biscuits in the open packet on the desk, borrow the prayer mat or dab their eyes with kohl from a silver flask. They scrutinized my face for any likeness to Taha, laughed at jokes I could not understand, while I sat nervously on the edge of a bed, smiling and unable to speak. Later, with Taha, we went to a concert in the football grounds where a group of students sang. I felt very moved by a song in the form of a letter written by a political prisoner to his mother. Taha’s bride afterwards wrote the words out for me, humming the tune, looking radiant, and Taha remarked how elegant her handwriting was.

In the shop windows dummies posed, aloof strangers in the frenzied life of Oxford street. Wools, rich silks and satin dresses. ‘Taha, shall I wear tonight the pink or the green?’, I asked him ‘See, I look like-like a watermelon in this green’. His room was an extension of the house where a verandah used to be, a window from the hall still looked into it, the door is made of shutters. He never slept in his room. In the early evening we all dragged our beds outdoors so that the sheets are cool when it’s time to gaze up at the stars. If it rained Taha did not care, he covered his head with the sheet and continued to sleep. When the dust came thick, I shook his shoulder to wake him up to go indoors and he shouted at me to leave him alone. In the morning his hair was covered with dust, sand in his ears, his eyelashes. He sneezed and blamed me for not insisting, for failing to get him to move inside. I see him now: he smiles at me in my green dress, his suitcase half-filled lies open on the floor, he leans against the shutters holding them shut with his weight. Through them filter the hisses and smells of frying, the clinking of empty water glasses scented with incense and the thud of a hammer on a slab of ice, the angry splinters flying in the air, disintegrating, melting in surrender when they greet the warm floor. Someone is calling for the bridegroom, an aunt cups a hand round her mouth, tongue strong and dancing from side to side she trills joy cry. When others join her the sound rises in waves to fill the whole house. Is it a tape or is someone singing this ridiculous song, Our bridegroom like honey. Where can you ever find another like him? He tells me words I know to be absurd but want to believe. Tonight you will look more beautiful than the bride.

The bus headed north, and we passed Regents Park and the Central Mosque; all was peaceful and dark after the congestion of the shopping centre. I was glad that there were no more coloured lights for they are cheerful and false. I had held others like them before in my hands wiping the dust off each bulb and saying to Taha, ‘How could you have taken them from the electrician when they were so dusty?’ And he had helped me clean them with an orange cloth that he used for the car because he was in a hurry to set them up all around the outside of the house. I had teased him saying that the colours were not in an ordered pattern. We laughed together trying to make sense of their order but they were random, chaotic. Then Hamid who was his friend arrived and said he would help him set them up. I asked Taha to get me a present from Nairobi where he was going for his honeymoon and Hamid had looked directly at me, laughed in his easy way and said without hiding his envy, ‘He is not going to have time to get you any presents.’ At that time, Hamid and I were not even engaged and I felt shy from his words and walked away from his gaze.

It was the lights which killed Taha. The haphazard, worn strings of lights, that had been hired out for years to house after wedding house. A bare live wire carelessly touched. A rushed drive to the hospital where I watched a stray cat twist and rub its thin body around the legs of our bridegroom’s death bed. And in the crowded corridors, people squatted on the floor and the screams for Taha were absorbed by the dirty walls, and listless flies, and by the generous who had room and tears for a stranger they had never met before.

My mother, always a believing woman, wailed and wept but did not pour dirt on her head or tear her clothes like some ignorant women do. She just kept saying again and again, ‘I wish I never lived to see this day.’ Hamid maybe had the greatest shock for he was with Taha when he was setting up the lights. Later, he told me that when they buried Taha he had stayed at the graveside after the other men had gone. He had prayed to strengthen his friend’s soul at its crucial moment of questioning. The moment in the grave, in the interspace between death and eternity when the Angels ask the soul, ‘Who is your Lord?’ and there must be no wavering in the reply, no saying ‘I don’t know’. The answer must come swiftly with confidence and it was for this assurance, in the middle of what must have been Taha’s fear, that Hamid prayed.

I had been in London for nearly seven months and had told no one about Taha. I felt that it would sound distasteful or like a bad joke, but electricity had killed others in Khartoum too, though I did not know them personally. A young boy once urinated at the foot of a lamp light which had a base from which wires stuck out exposed. And a girl in my school was cleaning a fridge, squatting barefoot in a puddle of melted ice with the electric socket too close. The girl’s younger sister was in my class and the whole class, forty girls, went in the school bus to visit the family at home. On the way we sang songs as if we were on a school picnic and I cannot help but remember that day with pleasure.

With time, the relationship between my family and Taha’s bride soured. Carefully prepared dishes ceased to pass between my mother and hers. In the two ‘Id festivals, when we celebrated first the end of the fasting month of Ramadan and then the Feast of Sacrifice, our families no longer visited. Out of a sense of duty, my parents had proposed that she marry another of my brothers but she and her family refused. Instead, she married one of her cousins who was not very educated, not as much as Taha at any rate. Sometimes, I would see her in the streets of Khartoum with her children and we would only greet each other if our eyes met.

In Taha’s memory, my father built a small school in his home village on the Blue Nile. One classroom built of mud to teach young children to read and write. The best charity for the dead is something continuous that goes on yielding benefit over time. But, like other schools it kept running into difficulties; no books, costly paper, poor attendance when children were sometimes kept at home to help their parents. Yet my father persevered and the school had become something of a hobby for him in his retirement. It is also a good excuse for him to travel frequently from the capital to the village and visit his old friends and family. What my mother did for Taha was more simple. She bought a zeer, a large clay pot and had it fastened to a tree in front of our house. The zeer held water, keeping it cool and it was covered by a round piece of wood on which stood a tin mug for drinking. Early in the morning, I would fill with water from the fridge and throughout the day passers-by, he and thirsty from the glaring sun could drink, resting in the shade the tree. In London, I came across the same idea, memorial benches, inscribed with names, placed in gardens and parks where people could rest. My mother would never believe that anyone would voluntarily sit in the sun but then she had never seen cold, dark evenings like these.

It was time for me to get off as the bus had long passed Lords, Swiss Cottage and Golders Green. There were only a few passengers left. After dropping me off the bus would turn around to resume its cycle. And my grief for Taha comes in cycles as well, over the years, rising and falling back. Like the appearance of the West Indian conductor, it is difficult to predict. Perhaps he will be on the bus tomorrow evening. ‘Like them Christmas lights?’ he will ask, and, grateful to see a familiar face amidst the alien darkness and damp, I will say, ‘Yes, I admire the coloured lights.’

It was the last day of the Eid, Muslim religious festival. The bakery had to be prepared for the following day. Hikmet went to clean the oven. He was alone in the bakery. He locked the main door, turned the lights on, opened the door of the oven and went in. He planned to return home after his shift. The workers would start the morning shift at about 4 a.m. and turn on the electrical oven to warm it up while they prepared the dough.

Hikmet was absorbed in his work, and hummed a song. At that moment Cengiz, a young worker in the bakery, came in. He had returned to collect his dirty apron. When he unlocked the main door, he was very surprised: ‘Hey, someone has forgotten to turn the lights off,’ he murmured. He took his apron; shut the door of the oven, unaware that Hikmet was inside. He turned the lights off, and went out.

When the lights went off, Hikmet rushed to the door of the oven, but it was locked. He began to shout at the top of his voice. He hit the door again and again, but nothing happened. No one heard him. He shuddered with honor. Then, trying to be calm he looked at his watch. It was 11 p.m. He had about five hours before the oven would he switched on. He felt himself being brought face to face with death. The oven would slowly become hot. First he would sweat. Then he would be gradually suffocated. The temperature would rise. His lipids would melt, and his flesh would be roasted. Probably, he would die of a heart attack before that, or perhaps he would go mad and die laughing. That would he better, he thought.

He remembered the pain on his hands when he had to take the loaves from the oven. Now, he would be baked like one of those loaves. A few days ago he had burned two fingers while cooking. What pain he felt! He kept them under cold water for ten minutes. And now? Not just two fingers, his whole body would burn. He recalled the fire scenes of movies. The thought was unbearable.

He felt it was getting hotter. He wondered who had shut the door and lit the oven. O my God! It was too early. He looked at his watch. It was 1:00 am. Two hours had passed. Two hours had flown. He touched the walls and bars. They were cold. He calmed down a little.

He thought of his family. His wife and son must be worried. He remembered that he had offended her. Shouldn’t he have been kinder and more respectful to her? And his son… He wished he had not beaten him. He beat him after he had unintentionally broken a window. He thought that he would he asked about these.

He wished he had accepted his wife’s offer. She had asked him: ‘Let’s begin to pray together.’

‘When we get old’, he had answered. Would he only be asked about his old age? No, he would be asked about his whole life.

Why didn’t he go to mosque when he heard the call to prayer on the way to the bakery? The muezzin called for the night prayer with a voice coming from the depths of his heart, and announced the supremacy of God and called to salvation. He would have prayed his last salat before his demise, and perhaps God would have forgiven him. ‘What a fool I am’, he groaned. ‘How lucky are those who pray five times a day’, he thought, ‘any prayer could be their last one, and they would be prepared.’

What about his seven year old son? He cared for his food, clothes and health, but not for his heart. Why did he let him watch all the rubbish on TV? Why did he not make him love God and the Prophet, peace be upon him?

He recalled his childhood and youth-day by day. There was nothing left for him except regret and shame. He would be asked of everything he had done. He remembered his marriage and how he had made his parents sorrowful. He was bent double in regret.

An idea came to his mind. He would pray inside the oven. He made tayammum, dry ablution, by putting his hands on the walls and then he began to pray. Who but God could help him now?

For the first time he felt himself really talking to his Lord. For the very first time he understood the meaning of the verses he was reciting: to thank the Lord of the worlds, to trust in Him, to ask for help from Him, to be on the Straight Path and not to go astray.

He prostrated with all his being. He felt and confessed his insignificance saying ‘You are the Exalted, You are the Compassionate!’

After the night pray he began to make up some of the missed ones. He came from Him and was returning to Him. He wished he had not forgotten this return. When he got tired, he sat down, rested for a while and continued to pray.

Cengiz had gone to his house and slept. He woke suddenly. It was 3 o’clock. He had a nightmare. His friend Hikmet was burning in flames in the oven and shouting: ‘Cengiz, Cengiz!’ What a strange dream it was! Then he remembered what he had done that evening. ‘No! It can’t be!’, he screamed. He immediately dressed and rushed outside. He ran and ran. It was 4:45 a.m. when he reached the bakery. The workers had not yet come. He unlocked the door, turned the lights on, opened the door of the oven and shouted: ‘Hikmet!’

There was no answer. He shouted again and again. Hikmet was deep in prayer and weeping. He was startled to hear his name. It must be a dream. Someone was calling him, and the lights were on. He went to the door, saw Cengiz and went outside.

Cengiz screamed as if he had seen a ghost: ‘Who are you?’ Hikmet hesitated when he came to embrace him. ‘What do you mean? Don’t you recognize me? I am Hikmet. I was in the oven cleaning it when someone shut the door.’

‘I don’t believe it. You cannot be Hikmet,’ Cengiz said, Hikmet was perplexed. How could his friend and colleague not recognize him? He saw a mirror, rushed to it and looked at himself. No! This face, this hair was not his. He looked at his wrinkled face and touched his white hair with his hands. He had become old. He was about to be suffocate with his sobs. He couldn’t look at the mirror again. With his hands on his head he stood in silence.